Thirty Days
by onmyside
Summary: He proposed to her at Christmas and now they will be married in only 30 days! Will one of them get cold feet? What about the dress? What about the wedding reception? Kissing? First names? Each chapter takes a look at one of the days prior to the wedding. Some chapters will be rather long, in others I'll only take a tiny glimpse at our beloved character's lives. K for now.
1. Chapter 1

_Authors Note: This is my first fanfic in... what feels like forever. I've started writing for Downton Abbey back on 2011 and continued to write until mid-2014 when I had to stop because of several reasons. When I wrote something since then, I wrote it for myself or tried to finish the story completely before typing and publishing it. Didn't work. So I ended up with several fanfics on paper but not a single one published._

 _This is one of the stories I wrote in spring/early summer this year. Then I got stuck, didn't want to write it any more. felt insecure about it because everyone had written their take on what happened AFTER the proposal and now there are already tons of stories that forehead kiss. I'm late to the party. So I hope this doesn't bore you and that you give me a second chance. remember: english is not my native tongue. some sentences will look and feel and read extremely german (we love long sentences and put verbs and adjectives at the very end of long sentences...). Enjoy + please let me know what you think!_

 **Chapter 1 – DAY 1**

Rain came pouring down heavily, turning the drive and yard into a muddy mess, covered by a multitude of deep puddles. She tried her best to manoeuver around them and not getting her shoes completely ruined. One careful step to the left, a few to the right. Balancing the basket full of provisions in one hand and her umbrella in the other.

When she was still a child, jumping over puddles had been a fun game. Sometimes, after a warm summer rain, she would take off her shoes and stockings and wade through them. Always careful that no one would see her though her mother always knew what her eldest daughter had been up too.

The days of her youth were long gone and jumping carefree over the puddles and hop across the back yard was out of the question. But the memory of it all brought a smile to her face. She took a large step to cross one of the smaller puddles then walked around a larger one. Should someone watch her now from the warm and dry safety of the house, how she danced around the wet obstacles, they would probably enjoy the show she was inevitably giving them.

Earlier, Mr Carson had warned her to go out and into the village with the sky darkening and the heavy rainfall imminent. He had offered to send a maid and, when that did not convince her, suggested he would run the errands. Mrs Patmore, who had witnessed their little discussion, had simply looked at Elsie, handed her the new, large umbrella and her shopping list before she pushed Elsie out of the back door.

She could have easily sent one of her girls, like he had suggested, but there were a few items she required that were rather _private_. And a bit of rain was not going to ruin her day or her good mood.

There was one last puddle she had to walk around before she reached the safety of the back door. The little roof provided some much needed shelter from the rain. She closed the umbrella and was about to open the door, when it was pushed in her direction. The sudden, unexpected movement startled her and she took a step backwards directly into one of the pools she had successfully avoided earlier.

"Blast!" Now her left shoe was wet and most likely ruined beyond repair.

"Oh! Mrs Hughes!" Andy took her hand and pulled her inside, out of the rain and nasty weather. "I am so sorry." He had taken her umbrella and was about to grab for the basket as well in an eager attempt to make up for his mistake.

"It is fine, Andy. Really. Go on with what you were about to do, please." She tried to keep the annoyance and scolding out of her voice. The footman already looked crestfallen, shoulders sagged and staring at his feet. Elsie unpinned her hat, wanted to get out of the wet coat next but Andy had his hands on her shoulders immediately.

"Andy, it's alright. I can manage," she warned him once more.

"Mrs Hughes?" A deeper, male voice interrupted them. Mr Carson had stepped out of his pantry, took in her dishevelled appearance and sent Andy outdoors by simply looking at him angrily. The footman scurried out of their way.

"I'm glad you're back." All the anger had immediately disappeared when he addressed her, his voice soft and quiet.

"I was only gone for two hours." She smiled up at him, strands of we hair clung to her forehead and her neck. With one hand she tried to wipe them away but it was no use. She needed to change into dry and clean clothes as soon as possible, take a hot bath and pin her hair up neatly again.

"But in that nasty weather", he huffed.

Elsie gently touched his cheek. "I did survive it now, didn't I?"

He smiled down at her but there was still a worried look on his face.

"Let me get changed and I'll be downstairs again in half an hour."

…*…*…*…*…

The wet left shoe squeaked with every step she took. Walking was uncomfortable and once she had finally reached her room, Elsie tossed the offending shoe unceremoniously into a corner. She would take care of it later, if it was worth mending at all. For their wedding she had planned to buy a new pair anyway.

The basket she placed on top of the small desk that stood by the window. She would sort its contents later, take Mrs Patmore's orders out and store the items she bought for herself (and for him) in a safe place, away from prying eyes.

* * *

 _tbc_

 _I have a cold. So I couldn't proofread this. If you find the missing words and letters or extra letters: sorry!_


	2. Chapter 2

_Authors Note: Told you I'd continue this! THANK YOU SO MUCH for the warm welcome in Carson/Hughes fanfic land! 3 I'll try and update this every day - it will be difficult but I try.  
_

* * *

 **Chapter 2 – DAY 2**

Everything was in order, impeccably so. For a long time he had not been as pleased with the work of his footmen as he was today. They were finally getting back to the grandeur and style he had so painfully missed for the past few years when he had Thomas and James, then only Mr Molesley to do the work. Andy was a blessing.

The only thing that needed his skilled hand was an out of place menu card and a chair that stood an inch too far away from the table. Otherwise, the dining table looked splendid. He had taught his footmen well. With a proud smile he walked around the room to check the arrangements one last time.

In only four weeks he would look at a similar table setting: at his own wedding. It required the same meticulous planning he applied when he prepared the dining room for the family. Everything needed to be in perfect order for their special day and meet his high standards. Provided that he was able to convince his future wife that a small wedding reception was indispensable. His Lordship had even offered to pay for it but after all Lord Grantham had already done for Elsie and him, Charles could not accept the generous offer. In his eyes, it had to be the other way around: he should hold a small reception for their friends and the Granthams to show is gratitude. They were truly blessed to work under such a supportive and understanding employer. And Charles felt that without a proper wedding party, they would disregard that kindness and generosity.

Elsie disagreed. They were not on one side in this matter. And he hated that.

Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted one more menu card that looked out of place. An ink blot had ruined it. Carefully he took it out of its holder. He had to write a new one and have Andy or Mr Molesley replace it as quickly as possible.

With a deep sigh he ripped the card in the middle and scattered the pieces into the fireplace. Then he left the dining room and slowly descended the stairs. With each step, the pride he had felt earlier while looking at the splendid table and thinking of his own wedding, faded. His head was suddenly full of thoughts and scenarios and an unwanted anxiousness took hold of him. He had never experienced such a thing before.

Charles stopped in front of his pantry, his right hand resting on the doorknob. He could not turn it. What if Elsie would never agree to have a wedding reception at all? What if this was only the first argument in a long line of disagreements? They had had their small fights before: about household matters, rights and wrongs in the training of young, inexperienced staff. Never had one of their quarrels (and he even enjoyed these sometimes) involved and affected their own future and their own lives. Had he made the right decision when he proposed to her? Maybe they were not meant to be together as lovers (the word caused his chest to tighten with that pleasing, tingling feeling he so often experienced when he thought about their life as a married couple).

The doorknob underneath his hand felt cold to the touch, unreal. Yet he could not turn it and disappear into the safety of his pantry. Instead he was rooted to the spot, staring into the distance. A kitchen maid passed by, busy with fetching ingredients for Mrs Patmore's dinner. Andy came out of the servant's hall, eating an apple.

"Was everything alright? Upstairs I mean, Mr Carson?"

He turned his head, suddenly aware that someone was talking to him. "Yes, Andy. Thank you." He forced his lips to form a small smile before he finally opened the door.

Maybe they should reconsider the date for their wedding, think it over one more time until they were back in agreement.

* * *

 _tbc_

 _(a short one, I know. But chapter three and four will be a bit longer)_


	3. Chapter 3

_Author's Note: WOW, thank you! The feedback I've got so far is overwhelming! You don't know how much this all means to me!_

* * *

 **Chapter 3 – DAY 3**

"What do you think of it?" The soft, lavender coloured fabric shimmered in the light that streamed through the window of her sitting room. It was the first time Elsie had taken it out of the box since the purchase on Wednesday. In the store the fabric had looked exquisite but not too fancy. Now, in broad daylight and held against the dark browns and reds of her sitting room, it formed a stark contrast. The material was so delicate compared to the cotton of her practical day dress.

"It looks really pretty." Anna touched it. "And so soft."

"And expensive", Elsie sighed. "But Mrs Walker convinced me. It is supposed to be a very flattering fabric and apparently the ladies wear it in Paris." She let her fingers run over the smooth and slightly elastic material. It felt nice, that much was true.

"She was right in doing so!" Anna put the fabric back into the box and closed it.

"I am by far not a lady nor do we live in Paris!" It had been a wrong decision.

"Have you decided on a pattern yet?" Anna interrupted her train of thoughts. "Because I would love to offer you my help, Mrs Hughes."

Elsie shook her head. The more she thought about it, the more she disliked the fancy material in that box. Perhaps she could return it next week and exchange it for something more practical. She had not even planned to make a wedding dress, had actually decided to wear a blue skirt and her cream-coloured blouse. Perhaps, as a little extravagance, she would have purchased a new, matching hat. But then Mrs Walker had talked into buying _this_. Her hand touched the box, fingers moved along the rounded edges of it.

"Maybe Miss Baxter can help, too?" Anna touched her hand and once more brought her out of her reverie. "Don't worry about it too much."

Elsie forced herself to focus on the conversation, on making a final decision. "Thank you Anna. I appreciate your offer. But I don't think I'll need anyone's help. I'll return this next week."

"But why?" Elsie was a bit taken aback by Anna's sudden reaction and it must have shown on her face. "I am sorry, Mrs Hughes but I don't see why you should not spoil yourself a bit. It will be your wedding dress."

They younger woman opened the box once again and, without hesitation, took out the fabric to hold it against Elsie's dress. "We could make a wider skirt and add some long sleeves to the top, maybe some embroidery on the front. Trust me, Mrs Hughes. This colour suits you. Please, let me help."

Elsie looked down at the material. She was still not sure about her decision. It felt too much, too grand all of a sudden. Just like the reception Charles had set his mind on. They were only a butler and a housekeeper. A small reception attended by their closest friends and colleagues along with a ceremony held at the registrar's office was all she needed.

"I'll think about it." She knew that Anna would respect her answer but not accept it as a final one. Wordlessly she folded the fabric and stored it in the box. For now she would keep her purchase. Perhaps she could make a new skirt from it.

"Please do Mrs Hughes. Trust me, you won't regret having a special dress for such a special day."

…*…*…*…*…

Their good night's had been quick and uneventful. Only a small glass of sherry shared between them, a quick kiss on the cheek before she went upstairs to her room. He was as lost in thought as she. The wedding dress still occupied her mind and she had tried to convince herself that it would hurt no one to walk down the aisle or the corridor towards the registrar, in a nice new dress. Fashion was changing so fast and she had never tried to keep pace with it. And why should she? Her work dresses needed to be practical most of all, and the few times she enjoyed a half day in the village, or in Ripon, hardly required wearing anything too fashionable. Of course she had invested in a new coat or skirt once in a while. It would have been embarrassing to walk around in a ten year old dress. And the people in the village would have assumed the Crawley's paid their servants so poorly that they could not afford new clothes every now and then.

Along with the dress one other thing had kept her mind busy: she was the only woman in the household who still wore a corset. Out of convenience, out of habit, she was not really sure. Even Mrs Patmore had put hers aside last year and the cook was three years her senior.

Underneath the various purchases she had made on Wednesday she had hidden another boxed item. One she was even more uncertain of than a fancy wedding dress.

…*…*…*…*…

Elsie finished unbuttoning her dress, slipped out of it and carefully hung It into her wardrobe, ready for the next day. Then she unhooked the corset and left it on the back of a chair to air. Every evening she felt relieved to get out of the uncomfortable garment. The shift she wore still clung to her body after having been pressed to it all day by her corset. What a nice feeling to get out of all the different layers of clothing.

She had already reached for her nightdress when her eyes fell on the small box underneath her bed. In the shop she had refused to try it on. But they had assured her it would fit after having taken her measurements and selecting one particular model out of the many different shapes and sizes they had on display. Perhaps trying it now, in the safety of her bedroom, would help her to finally make a decision.

* * *

tbc

 _As always: typos - I am sorry for them!_


	4. Chapter 4

_Author's Note: Thank you once again for your kind and wonderful and uplifting reviews! I had a bit of trouble with chapter 4 (and 5 tbh). There will be some typos because I was writing while trying to catch up with all the new interviews popping up on tumblr :)_

* * *

 **Chapter 4 - DAY 4**

Breakfast was different that morning. More relaxed, the tense atmosphere of the past days had vanished, seemingly over night.

He was already sitting at the table, a steaming cup of tea in front of him, when she entered the servant's hall. Elsie smiled at him, whispered a _good morning_ that sounded like the most intimate thing she had ever said in his presence. He had trouble keeping his cheeks from blushing but somehow managed to reply with the same words he had said to her almost two years ago on that day at the beach.

"You manage to make that sound a little risqué." He tried to keep his voice down and not disturb the busy morning chatter of the other servants.

Elsie sat down to his right and the usual morning routine began until she gently touched his wrist when they were both reaching for the butter at the same moment. Her hand lingered for a second and the look in her eyes told him that she had done this on purpose. The smile that now appeared on her lips deserved no other term but _wicked_. He gasped audibly.

"Is something the matter, Mr Carson?"

He licked his lips that had suddenly become very dry. "Nothing, all is well, Mrs Hughes."

She took the butter and continued her breakfast as usual. With Anna, who sat across from her, she exchanged a few words. Nothing of importance, as far as he could catch the bits of their conversation. Every now and then he risked a look at Elsie out of the corner of his eyes, secretly, while he tried to make his face look indifferent to what happened around him (when truly he would have loved to send them all to work and have a private conversation with the housekeeper). Something was going on here but he could not point a finger at it yet.

Behind his back the first bell started to ring. Lady Mary was up. Lady Edith's bell followed soon after. The usual morning hectic commenced. Chairs scraped over the stone floor, ladies maid's gulped down their last sip of tea and hurried upstairs with breakfast trays. Soon the servant's hall was almost deserted except for a few young maids, butler and housekeeper.

Elsie finished her last bite of toast, granted him one last smile, stood and summoned the housemaids who, until then, had been chatting quietly at the back of the table.

"Hurry up, we haven't got all day!" She was about to leave the room together with the girls.

"Wait!" He needed a word, now. Elsie had confused him with her behaviour throughout breakfast and he could no longer pretend he had not noticed.

"We have work to do, Mr Carson." She continued to tease him.

"Only five minutes, if you please."

…*…*…*…*…

"We haven't talked at all these past days. And there is something that…" He swallowed, maybe he should have waited until the evening. After all, it was nothing that he could solve within the next five minutes. They had each defended their plans and ideas so very stubbornly until now. And to suggest to her that he would rather postpone the entire wedding was something one did not discuss in a short conversation after breakfast.

"Yes? I am listening?" She had her hands folded, her back straight. Nothing in her appearance suggested that she was only half as nervous as himself. She looked the perfect housekeeper: unapproachable except for that small smile tugging at her lips, the one he could not understand.

"We need to talk about the wedding, the reception, us. Can you spare some of your time this evening?" He couldn't say more. His throat felt dry and the confusion over her flirty behaviour from earlier was replaced by anger. A feeling he had never associated with her. But that small, knowing, teasing smile in her otherwise perfect appearance annoyed him. He did not like to be teased.

"Of course I can, Mr Carson…." She wanted to say more, he could see that but he gave her no chance.

"Good. Then we'll meet in my pantry after dinner." He left the room and did not look back.

…*…*…*…*…

She was nervous, fiddling with the chatelaine at her waist, checking her hair in the mirror. He only wanted to talk, for the first time in days, the first night after their heated discussion. The argument was still between them, unresolved, festering. Though for her the decision had been a final one: no reception in any rooms upstairs but a small gathering in the servant's hall. The family could attend if that was what he wanted, but she was not looking forward to a huge gathering where bride and groom where the centre of attention for hours.

One last look at the clock on the mantelpiece told her it was time to face the dreaded talk. He had sounded angry when he left his pantry earlier. Perhaps her good mood, the teasing that was meant to cheer him up a bit, had annoyed him. But she had felt so confident about everything after she had tried on the new undergarments last night. Even the wedding dress now seemed possible although she was still a bit unsure about it. Perhaps another night's sleep would help.

But for now, Elsie took a deep breath, turned around, left her sitting room and went over to his pantry. It was time.

…*…*…*…*…

He sat behind his desk, deep in thought, when she entered. A picture stood in front of him and she recognized the silver frame as the one she had given him a few years back. Her sharp intake of breath startled him and he quickly put the picture upside down on his desk.

"Elsie." He rose and wanted to make his way across the room towards her.

"I see you've been busy." She crossed her arms. Alice Neal. Obviously that woman was still inside his head. And if she was there, where did it leave her? Was she only his second best choice? The woman he asked to be his wife because he wanted to compensate for the mistakes his juvenile self had made?

"It's not what you think."

"Oh. Fine." Now she was the one who was angry and hurt. How fast things could change.

"Look, we've agreed to talk everything through once more and I would appreciate it if we could do so right now." He still kept his distance, blocked his desk from view by standing right in front of it.

"You know my answer to that discussion. I've told you already that I do not think a reception at Downton is the proper thing to do."

"We should show his Lordship some gratitude by inviting the family." His voice got a bit louder. "After all, they did not throw us out because we got engaged."

"Fine. But we're not using any of the upstairs rooms for it. And that is my final decision." She was close to tears now. How did they end up fighting when they usually managed to solve every household matter by finding a compromise?

"Perhaps we should call the entire wedding off then." He turned around, went back to sit in his chair, the desk a barrier between them as if she was one of the footmen he had summoned for a scolding.

She gasped. "You do not mean that."

"Perhaps I do."

* * *

tbc

 _Please do not hate me for the angst!_


	5. Chapter 5

_Author's note: wow, I am so speechless because of all your wonderful, kind, nice, special reviews! This makes me so happy and it makes me write faster... well almost. Had a writer's block today but thankfully my muse returned on the train ride to my parents. THAT's why this is published so late. I went to my favourite café because lots of friends were there and there was a little rock concert inside the café. Enjoy reading!_

* * *

 **Chapter 5 – DAY 5**

She had not slept all night. How could she? Their conversation had stopped right there because she had been too shocked to reply. Before the tears that had welled up in her eyes could spill in front of him, she had left his pantry and went straight upstairs, slammed the door of her room behind her and sat down on her bed.

Angry, disappointed, hurt. She could not decide how she felt at this very moment. Hot tears were by now streaming down her cheeks, unwanted, uncalled for. But despite crying for a long time that night, sleep did not come.

…*…*…*…*…

Something was the matter between them. Her face looked pale and the circles underneath her eyes should not be there. The days prior to her wedding were supposed to be happy ones, a bit stressful perhaps but otherwise a reason for joy and excitement. She had seen her like this only one other time. Her cancer scare, the weeks of anxious waiting, fearing that your life would be over within a few weeks. Mrs Patmore hoped that it was not another health scare. Not now when Elsie Hughes had finally found happiness in her life.

Beryl placed a fresh pot of tea right next to her friend, was close enough to study her face inconspicuously. She had been crying. Her eyes were still red, so was her nose.

"Here's some more tea. Thought I better make a fresh pot. You look like you caught a cold." Elsie looked up, a bit startled.

"Your trip into the village on Wednesday ended a bit wet I heard?" Unprompted, she poured the housekeeper a fresh cup of tea, hoping that Elsie Hughes would understand the hint.

"Oh, it did. Thank you Mrs Patmore. This might help." She turned her head around and continued staring at her uneaten slice of buttered toast.

"Eating would also help. And some Beecham's Powder perhaps." One last try could not hurt.

"I'll make sure to take some later." Elsie answered without looking at the cook. She was half lost in thought again and Beryl hoped that her invitation, to talk about what ever had happened, had been understood.

…*…*…*…*…

She expected Mrs Hughes to come into the kitchen directly after breakfast. However, after Daisy had cleared the table in the servant's hall and told her that they had all gone upstairs or elsewhere to continue their day's work, Beryl could no longer sit still. She would have noticed the always present sound of her keys should Mrs Hughes have passed by the kitchen earlier.

"I'll be back in a minute." She untied her apron, put down her glasses and left the kitchen in search for her friend. Mrs Hughes was not in her sitting room, whereas Mr Carson sat at his desk staring at some picture frame he held in his hand. He looked as forlorn as the housekeeper. Beryl paused, watching him from the doorway, half hidden in the shadows. The butler sighed, touched the picture with the tip of his finger and then brought it to his lips to place a soft kiss on the glass.

Beryl felt a bit guilty that she had been witness to such a private, intimate moment. But she could not help her natural curiosity. Whose picture was in that frame? And was this the cause of Elsie Hughes's present state of discomfort?

She cleared her throat and knocked on the doorframe at the same time. "Mr Carson, might I have a word?"

The frame almost fell from his hands and he managed to catch it in the last second. "Mrs Patmore!" His voice was rough but not stern enough. There was a strange weariness in it and when she approached him, she noticed the same dark circles under his eyes she had already seen on Mrs Hughes face.

"I was wondering whether you had seen Mrs Hughes?" She tried to get as close to the table as possible, her eyes wandering from his face to the frame and back up again when he started to speak.

"Why? I thought she was with you? You mentioned some Beecham's Powder earlier, didn't you?" Now his arm obscured the picture.

"I know but…" Where was the use in lying to him? Something was going on here and she could not bear it to see Mrs Hughes unhappy, or to see him being evidently miserable. "That was just an invitation to come and talk to me. Something is wrong and I wonder what happened between the two of you." She had not meant to sound stern, her tone the same as if she had scolded one of her kitchen maids. But it had the desired effect.

Mr Carson heaved a sigh. His head and shoulders dropped. "I think our wedding is postponed until further notice."

…*…*…*…*…

A knock on her bedroom door woke her. She decided to ignore it, ignore whoever stood outside and wanted to talk to her. Her daily duties were done and bookkeeping could wait until the next day. She needed sleep, rest, her solitude. All day she had avoided people. First Mrs Patmore's strange invitation to talk, then him whenever they passed the other downstairs or upstairs in the corridors.

"Mrs Hughes?"

It was Mrs Patmore's voice she could hear through the closed door. Elsie waited, hoped her friend would give up trying to talk to her.

Another knock on the door, she heard her speak her name name once more, the voice on the other side tinged with worry. Elsie closed her eyes, tried to fall back asleep although she knew Mrs Patmore was still there.

"For heaven's sake!" The door was pushed open, then closed rather forcefully. "It's enough."

Elsie sat up in her bed, startled and shocked by Mrs Patmore's sudden emotional outburst and invasion of her private bedroom. "Mrs Patmore!"

"Don't! I will not leave until we've talked. You can stay were you are but I'm not going anywhere." She sat down in her green armchair, arms crossed, eyes fixed on Elsie's face.

Had this been her sitting room, she would have gotten up and left. But this was the only other place in the entire house that she called her own, a place where she had always felt save. She would not abandon her bedroom only to avoid talking to Mrs Patmore. And she lacked the strength to fight back. Elsie switched on the lamp on her bedside table.

"I've talked to him, you know." The voice softened a bit.

"Oh. And he probably told you that he no longer wants us to get married." She did not even have the energy to accuse Mrs Patmore of meddling in her private life.

"He did. And I told him how stupid that idea is." She moved the chair a bit closer to where Elsie sat. "Apparently you saw him holding a picture yesterday? Do you know who's on that picture?"

Elsie turned her head away. Tears started to well up again when the image of him holding that blasted frame surfaced again. "I don't want to."

"It was you!" Mrs Patmore reached out to touch her hand. "It has always been you."

She could no longer hold her tears back. "But why didn't he tell me?" Her voice was a mere whisper.

"Because you're both too stubborn for your own good." From a pocket in her dress, Mrs Patmore pulled a white handkerchief. "Dry your eyes. You should look like the bride on the brink of wedded bliss not like you've just come home from a funeral."

Surprisingly this brought a smile to her face. "It's a long time since I was on the brink of anything. Except possibly the grave." She wiped away the tears, relieved that Mrs Patmore had ignored every rule they had in this house when it came to their private sphere. Elsie had gained a position that entitled her to a single bedroom (her little sanctuary) where the rest of the staff had to knock before they were allowed to enter it.

"Believe me when I say that he loves you very much."

Elsie bit her lip to suppress more tears from spilling. He had never told her that before in person. And she had not been aware that he kept a picture of her on his desk, in his pantry, wherever that frame had suddenly come from. No wonder he had hidden it when he had kept it secret from her for so long.

"I know this will sound awkward but you know what he told me?" Elsie looked up, not sure she was ready to hear what Mrs Patmore had to say next. "And before you ask, I know he should've told you directly but he still believes it would be best to rethink your wedding plans. Which is silly, if you ask me…"

The cook started to ramble. "Mrs Patmore, what did he say?"

"That he loves you very much and that he is happy and bursting with pride that you agreed to be his wife. And that he wants you to live as closely as two people can for the rest of your lives."

How could she ever doubt that he still held feeling for a woman who had broken his heart so many years ago? She could no longer hold back her tears, nor could Mrs Patmore. But for a change, they both cried tears of happiness.

* * *

tbc

 _I hope you're all feeling a bit better now after the angst in chapter 4. I promised I'll solve the problems._


	6. Chapter 6

_A/N: Sorry I haven't thanked you for your reviews individually but I've been away all weekend. So: THANK YOU SO MUCH! I am still so chuffed that there are so many of you following this story and reviewing and it makes me so so so happy! Day 6 is a day late. I apologize for that. But you'll love it and grin at the end and the first one who writes a review with the words I had in my head while writing that one scene (imagine a teen with a dirty mind) will get... erm... dunno yet - a say on what should happen on day 10?_

* * *

 **Chapter 6 – DAY 6**

After luncheon they finally managed to find a moment where no one required their help or wanted anything from them.

She had looked nervous and incredibly beautiful to him all day although he could not figure out why she was no longer angry with him about their fall out two days ago. Perhaps Mrs Patmore had talked to her, maybe she was teasing him once again. He could not tell, was unable to read anything in her face other than her nervousness.

Right now she stood in front of him, wringing her hands, unable to look him in the eyes and he so wanted to end her misery. How to start a conversation now? After all they had been through the past days every word he had on his lips, ready to be spoken, felt wrong, like an accusation. Their relationship was so fragile at this very moment and their stubbornness had caused so many misunderstandings already. He had never imagined they would face such difficulties.

He wanted to marry her so much, needed to. In his entire life he had never been so determined about anything else. She was the first thing he thought about when he woke up in the morning, and the last imagine on his mind when he closed his eyes at night.

"Mrs Patmore told me what you said to her." Her voice was soft, quiet, touched his soul. "Why did you never tell me?"

Charles took a deep breath, closed the gap between them, taking her hands in his. "I wanted to. Guess I never found the courage."

Her hands relaxed, allowing him to hold each hand separately and bring them up to his lips. Elsie's head followed his movement until she was finally looking at him. "I love you, Elsie Hughes, and I very much want us to get married."

A beautiful smile spread on her lips and made her eyes sparkle. She freed her left hand and reached up to touch his cheek, caressed it gently. "I love you." He whispered again. "And I feel so very proud that you accepted to become my wife."

"I love you too and I am sorry for putting us in this mess." Her hand still lingered on his chest, warm fingers against his hot skin. "But I am the bride. We'll be doing it your way for the next thirty years, but the wedding day is mine."

She tried to sound stern and scolding but the smile on her face gave her away. They were two people who valued their independence, who had worked long and hard to gain their positions and the respect of the people they worked with. Giving all that up for a simpler, self-paced life was never going to be easy. First steps had been made by buying a home, their own cottage. Now the date of their nuptials was only three weeks ahead. Of course she wanted the day to be special, memorable, planned by her experienced hand. How could he forget the festivities she had organized for the family year after year. Never had they been the centre of attention. All the work had always been done for the family, not their own amusement. In his enthusiasm and gratitude he had ignored this entirely.

Charles grinned, finally understanding her point of view.

"What?" He hand came to rest on his shoulder and if they had stood further apart and not been so close, she would probably have put it on her hip, demanding a proper answer.

He reached up to cup her face with both hands, leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss on her forehead. His lips lingered for longer than necessary, his fingers stroked along her face, thumbs touching her lips. He had never tasted them before, had originally planned to kiss her properly on their wedding day. But now that she was leaning in so close, eyes still closed, relishing his touch, he had to bent down and kiss away the rest of the doubts.

Her hand fell from his shoulder, embraced him, pulled him closer. If he had been feeling proud and happy before (like he had told Mrs Patmore yesterday), he was now almost busting with emotions he could never describe with words. The last time he had been kissed was a lifetime ago and it had only been a quick peck on the lips. But what he experienced now was so much more, so intense.

She parted her lips and he was confused for a split second. Then her tongue touched his and he forgot everything else around them.

…*…*…*…*…

"We can have the reception at the school perhaps."

They were sitting at his small table later that day, chairs closer together than normally. He held her hand, her knee touched the side of his leg.

"Then there is enough room for everyone and people don't feel out of place."

"I like the idea. But please, convince his Lordship that we do not need a fancy carriage or exquisite flower decorations."

He nodded. "I will talk to him tomorrow."

"I know much it means to you that the family is present but although we have lived under their roof and enjoyed their support for so many years, we are still servants…."

Charles lifted his hand, wanted to stop her, explain how he saw things. Elsie was faster, distracted him by touching his knee, tenderly stroking his leg.

"And as such, it makes me uncomfortable to be treated like a friend or as a distant member of the family."

He swallowed hard, wanted to answer again, make his point but he couldn't. His body reacted surprisingly fast to her touch and in the most pleasant way, or rather unpleasant because he could not do anything to stop it. How many years had gone by since last a woman has had such an effect on him?

"Are you quite alright?" Her hand stopped moving.

"Perfectly, thanks." His voice hitched.

"Are you sure? Because I do not want us to start another argument."

Charles took her hand off his knee, held it gently, concentrated on looking at her face before he finally found the courage to speak again. "I understand your worries and I promise you to talk things through with his Lordship. I want our wedding to be perfect and something we have fond memories of."

"Thank you for that."

* * *

tbc

 _Thank you so much for reading and for the kind words and reblogs and everything!_


	7. Chapter 7

_A/N And once again: thank you all for your wonderful reviews! And I am back with the daily updates :). Only a little one today. I hope you like it. Please let me know what you think. (SUNDAY IS DOWNTON DAY!)_

* * *

 **Chapter 7 – DAY 7**

They had cleared the dining room, put away the china, the fine cutlery. Smoke from the candles lingered in the air. He opened the French windows to let the fresh and cool night air inside. It had been a beautiful, sunshine filled late spring day. Soon the stuffy room was filled with the fragrances from the garden. The fresh air also cleared his head from the nervousness he had suffered from all day. Several times he had tried to talk to Lord Grantham, but it was never a good moment. Now was his last chance before the family retired for the night.

He delegated the rest of the work to Andy and joined Thomas and Molesley in the drawing room. Lady Mary had already gone to bed, the Dowager countess had left earlier. When he entered the room, only Lord and Lady Grantham were left, sitting on the settee, finishing their brandy. His chance to talk to his employer was as bad as it had been all day. He could impossibly disturb him now.

"Carson, there you are. I wondered where you'd wandered off to." Lord Grantham put his empty glass down and it was quickly cleared away by Thomas.

"My lord, I was only overseeing the cleaning of the dining room." He gave a nod in Thomas's direction, telling him without words that his service was no longer required. The underbutler quickly left the room, taking Mr Molesley with him.

"Good but you don't normally do that, don't you?" Lord Grantham rose from his seat. "Is there something you want to tell me, old chap?"

It was true, such minor duties never required his watchful eye. Not as long as he still had two footmen and some maids to do the work for him. But it had been a while since he had enjoyed the evening routines and it had kept his mind off the task he had set for himself: discussing the wedding reception.

"Actually there is, my lord."

"Oh, shall I leave you two alone then, Carson?" Lady Grantham looked up at him and for a moment he wanted to answer with a yes, discuss everything man to man, not expose his worries too much.

"No, my lady. The thing is, I wanted to talk to his Lordship about the wedding reception."

…*…*…*…*…

"Actually, Robert, I agree with Mrs Hughes. It is her special day and she should have the last say. After all, she has planned more than one garden party and servant's ball." Lady Grantham's comment did not make things much easier.

"So you won't be offended when we reject your kind offer to have the reception here?" He still stood between Lord and Lady Grantham although Robert had offered him to sit down after he had explained what he wanted to discuss. "Because we are very grateful indeed and I don't want you to think that we are not."

"Nonsense, Carson. We know that. I just thought it would be nice for you to be the centre of attention for one day." Lord Grantham rose and walked over to the small table next to the door where a carafe with brandy stood ready. He poured a healthy measure into two tumblers. "Here, I want you to enjoy your wedding day, not worry about us. To your health."

Charles hesitantly accepted the glass and took a small sip. "Thank you my lord."

"Carson, there is one thing I'd like to ask." Lady Grantham had now also risen from her place on the settee.

"Please do so, my lady." He held the tumbler in his hand, unsure whether he should finish the drink or not.

"I know Mrs Hughes does not want things to be too fancy but maybe she would like to have some flowers in the church? I'd be happy to select them with her."

…*…*…*…*…

She waited for him in her sitting room, impatiently looking at the clock every five minutes. He had promised to talk to his Lordship today and of course he had left it to the very last minute. She could not blame him for that, had felt his nervousness all day. He had checked his appearance in the mirror more often than usual, tugged at his waistcoat whenever they had the chance to talk and she had seen him mumbling possible answers and questions when he thought no one was watching him.

Dinner was long over, the dining room cleared. She had seen the footmen and Thomas come downstairs for a last cup of tea after a long day. However, Charles was nowhere to be seen. She gave him five more minutes before she would take matters into her own hands. Things needed to be discussed today because there were only three weeks left for her to plan their special day.

The minutes ticked away. Andy went past her sitting room, casting a glance inside. "Oh Mrs Hughes. Mr Carson's still upstairs."

"Thank you Andy, I thought so. Did he say anything? When he might be downstairs, perhaps?"

"Not that I'm aware of, no." He shrugged his shoulders. "Can I help with anything?"

"Not this time, Andy but thank you." The footman left for the back yard and she remained standing in her doorway, impatiently awaiting the arrival of her butler.

She wondered what took him so long. Surely his Lordship would understand how they felt about the too generous offer. And in case her Ladyship was also present, both men did not stand a chance to disagree. Perhaps she should have talked to Lady Grantham instead. Elsie bit her lip in frustration. Things might have been settled by now and their fight from earlier that week would never have happened.

Elsie turned around to check the time again. His five more minutes had passed. She switched off the light, closed the door with a deep sigh and went to go upstairs in search of him. Once she had reached the green baize door that led to the great hall, it was opened and almost hit her.

"Mrs Hughes! Elsie! What are you doing here?" He stumbled backwards against the door.

Elsie escaped a childish giggle that earned her a stern look but quickly turned into a smiling face. "I was looking for you! Have you checked the clock? It is almost midnight."

He regained his composure, adjusted his waistcoat. "It took longer than expected."

"I can see that." Elsie held out her hand, wanted to take some of the nervousness away from him, make him feel steady again. "You can recount the conversation on our way upstairs."

"I haven't finished work for today. There's still the silver that needs to be put away…", he started to protest but she dragged him along, step after step. Their workday was over now, she decided.

"Thomas surely already did that. That's why we still employ an underbutler." She stopped on the first landing. "Besides, I am tired and all I want now is sleep and know about the outcome of your discussion."

Charles reached up to touch her cheek, a sudden unexpected gesture. She leaned into his touch and closed her eyes for a few seconds. It felt wonderful that he slowly started to forget that people might see or hear them. He got more confident with each passing day although she had waited for two months after his proposal, before he finally found the courage to hold her hand. "He agreed with you."

"Like I knew he would." She turned her head slightly and when he did not take his hand away, pressed a kiss to his palm.

"But her Ladyship asked if you would like to select the flowers for the church together with her."

Elsie opened her eyes and at the last second decided against heaving a sigh. Of course Lady Grantham could not stay out of the planning and she would have been involved even if Elsie had talked to _her_ first instead of Charles having a conversation with his Lordship. However, if this was the only part of the wedding preparations she wanted to be involved in, Elsie decided to grin and bear it. "Of course."

* * *

tbc

 _I hope I can update tomorrow because I am on a business trip the next two days and I won't have much time for writing._


	8. Chapter 8

_A/N Sorry this took me over a WEEK to update! But the past week was crazy with so much to do at work and then I'd been away for the weekend. FOR DOWNTON DAY! Now we know in which context the quotes were really spoken and this story feels a bit out of context. BUT, I'll try and invent little moments that could also be possible in the new episodes. Enjoy!_

* * *

 **Chapter 8 – DAY 8**

When she last checked, the box had been safely stored underneath her bed; next to his _present._ Now the fabric was gone and she couldn't remember having it stored somewhere else, for example inside the cupboard or downstairs in her sitting room.

On her hands and knees, she half crawled on the floor to thoroughly check that she had not accidentally kicked the package further underneath the bed. But aside from a bit of dust and the new lingerie there was nothing there.

Frustrated she got on her feet. Someone must have been in her room, invaded her private space. Two suspects immediately sprang to mind: Mrs Patmore and Anna, or both of them in a joint effort to plot things behind her back.

Elsie sank down on her bed and buried her face in her hands. Why couldn't they understand that all the wanted was to have a simple, quiet, uncomplicated wedding ceremony without fuss and extravaganza. Already at the very beginning things had started to get out of hand because everyone wanted to be involved in the planning. Too many people believed they had a say in the matter. When it _should_ be only her, her wishes, dreams and ideas.

Like so often in the last few days, tears threatened to fall. Never before had she been so emotional, unable to control her feelings and suppress them when required. Years and years had she perfected hiding her feelings behind the stern mask that was the housekeeper, why couldn't she do so now? Elsie took a few deep breaths to calm her nerves. It was time to accept things as they were.

If her ladyship wanted to be involved in the flower decorations so be it. It was a very thoughtful offer and Lady Grantham was experienced when it came to organizing flowers, had never delegated this particular task into Elsie's hands. And as long as her involvement in the overall planning was limited to this one thing, Elsie was grateful for her help.

But what she could not leave unresolved was the question of where the fabric for a possible wedding dress had gone. A stern talking to Anna and perhaps also Mrs Patmore was in order.

…*…*…*…*…

"And you're sure she'll like this pattern?" Phyllis Baxter looked up from the magazine Anna had placed before her on the table.

"I'm not sure but I'd think it would look very flattering and it's not that fancy. She'll appreciate the simplicity of it."

Baxter studied the illustration more closely. "I could probably model it on one of her dresses but to be able to create something that really fits her, I need her to try it on, Anna."

"I'll take care of that when it comes to it. Don't worry." Anna smiled and, for the first time since she had sneaked into Mrs Hughes's room to practically steal the fabric, felt that she had done the right thing.

"Good then." Baxter took the magazine and rolled it up. No one needed to see what they were working on. "But how do we keep this a secret?" She looked over her shoulder out into the corridor to make sure no one was eavesdropping on their conversation.

"By not telling Mrs Patmore or Daisy," Anna laughed.

"What is it you cannot tell me?" Mrs Patmore suddenly stood in the doorway to the boot room, completely out of the blue, hands on her hips and a questioning look in her eyes.

Anna held her breath. This had not been part of her plan.

"Nothing really." Baxter immediately answered and tried to hide what was in her hands.

"I see." The cook had spotted it already and pointed at the magazine now. "And I guess _nothing_ has nothing to do with this upcoming wedding everyone's talking about?"

There was no use in trying to keep this secret from Mrs Patmore anymore. Anna had to tell her the truth and hoped it would not ruin everything.

…*…*…*…*…

The servant's hall was deserted so close to luncheon. Molesley and Andy were probably upstairs, preparing the dining room and Anna took care of Lady Mary. The remaining suspect was Mrs Patmore who was of course busy with luncheon preparations and shouting commands at the remaining kitchen staff.

Elsie observed the hustle and bustle from her position in the doorway, waiting for the perfect opportunity to interrupt Mrs Patmore's work.

The cook walked past her, adjusting her apron and reaching for her reading glasses on her small desk. Elsie decided to clear her throat at that very moment to make her presence known.

"Heavens! You startled me! What are you doing there, hiding?"

"I'd like to have a quick word with you. Now."

Mrs Patmore stared at her as if she had announced that the house was on fire. "I'm in the middle of preparing luncheon. Can't it wait?"

Elsie straightened her back, tried to appear a bit taller, resolute and stern. "No, it can't wait. And it won't take long."

…*…*…*…*…

"I didn't know that!" Mrs Patmore truly looked ashamed and Elsie immediately felt sorry that she had been so gruff in telling her friend off.

She had already suspected Anna to be the 'thief' but hearing it from Mrs Patmore, who wanted nothing more than to make her happy, was something entirely different. Together with Miss Baxter it had been their plan to surprise her, make her a beautiful dress for her special day. Elsie could not blame them or be cross. In fact her resolve to tell them all off quickly dissolved.

As much as she wanted to be in control, avoid being pushed into some pre-arranged matter, it touched her that so many people in this house were happy for her, showed heartfelt excitement. She had never been the centre of attention, never wanted to. But now everyone around her inevitably focused on the wedding day. It was something special, unusal. She could not blame them to seek a bit of enjoyment in their otherwise dull everyday routine.

"I'm sorry Mrs Patmore. I didn't mean to be rude but you see…" She could not finish the sentence because her friend interrupted her by reaching out for her hand.

"It's all a bit much right now, I understand. But you know, they mean well."

Elsie managed a small smile but she had to bite her lip to stop tearing up again.

"Let Anna and Miss Baxter do this for you."

She could only nod.

* * *

TBC


	9. Chapter 9

_A/N Happy Downton Day everyone! I know I am LATE, once more. And this chapter isn't the best one... but not every chapter can include kisses and cuddles and OMG THAT HUG! okay, enjoy reading and let me know what you think 3_

* * *

 **chapter 9 - DAY 9**

He paced the room impatiently. His time was limited and he had to be back at the Abbey for the gong. Lord Grantham would perhaps excuse his lateness but at long as he was the butler at Downton (and not Thomas, or God help it, Mr Molesley), it was his duty to announce the meals.

Another look at his pocket watch confirmed his suspicions: the headmaster was already fifteen minutes late for their appointment. Any member of the male staff would have been in serious trouble by now. Charles did not approve of unpunctuality, despised it. In his many years at Downton Abbey he had learned to appreciate the structured routine of life in service, the reliability of a well-planned day. He closed his watch and put it back into the pocket of his waistcoat, his movements a little rough, annoyed. If the headmaster did not show up soon, Charles would leave.

"Ah Mr Carson!" On cue, Mr Jenkins appeared in a doorway at the far end of the hall, smiling, friendly and seemingly unaware that Charles was close to reprimanding him. "Good to see you. What can I do for you?"

The headmaster approached him, while he talked. "I mean, I know what you came here for but I'm curious as to why you considered the school?"

…*…*…*…*…

They sat down at a lonely table in the corner of the hall. Not the most comfortable place to discuss in detail what a weddings reception should include and how it should be conducted. But then, Mr Jenkins did not have the same experience when it came to planning for huge parties.

The school provided the hall as a community centre to the village, a place where people could meet for dances, the annual flower show and for a cup of tea after church on Sundays. Weddings were traditionally celebrated at ones own house among ones family and friends. The only public part of the ceremony was held at the church for all and everyone to attend, cheer and congratulate bride and groom.

"As you well know, Mr Jenkins, Mrs Hughes and I call no house our own and as employees at the Abbey there is no other venue available to us to greet our guests."

Mr Jenkins nodded in agreement but then his eyes grew wide as if he had just realized something, remembered a vital detail. "But why not have it at the Abbey then?"

Charles heaved a sigh. He had expected this question, hoped it would not be asked because he dreaded the explanation that now inevitably followed.

"We decided that we could not accept Lord Grantham's generous offer." How could he possibly make this clear to Mr Jenkins? He was a man who had never experienced being in service and had lived without the restrictions and rules that such a life entailed. As the headmaster he was only responsible to the board. Times had changed, the working and middle classes rose to more power. Servitude in all its splendour slowly became an outdated concept for most of these people.

After a brief pause in which Mr Jenkins looked at him expectantly, Charles continued. "You see, it is unusual for a butler and housekeeper to be allowed to get married and we did not want to impose on Lord and Lady Grantham's generosity."

"I was not aware of this. Excuse my impertinent questions, Mr Carson. Of course you can hold the reception here. I gather you only need the hall and take care about the rest yourself?"

…*…*…*…*…

The house was dark and quiet. Lady Mary had been the last to go up, tired and exhausted from a long day spent with discussing further plans for new housing projects. Although he should have been tired too, Charles enjoyed being alone in the rooms upstairs, checking the dining room one last time, switching off the electric lights, making sure nothing was left standing on the table. In the great hall he found a forgotten glass and some of the flower bouquets needed to be replaced.

After his half day in the village, including the rather awkward talk with Mr Jenkins, it was comforting to deal with these routine tasks now. As much as he despised the chaos after a busy dinner, the cleaning up, making his last round, these mundane things now filled him with pride and a sense of purpose. He had felt so out of place earlier, admittedly as a respected member of the village community but still not one of them. Even if they would one day live in their own cottage, he'd always be the butler.

Charles hummed a random melody while he crossed the hall towards the library, unaware of the shadow that followed him quietly. The door to the room was wide open, the fire had gone out, and embers glowed in the fireplace. It would die completely during the night until either a hallboy or Daisy lit it again in the early morning hours.

He sorted the cushions someone had piled into the corner of the sofa, thinking how nice it would be to sit down on his own couch soon, enjoying a relaxing evening after a long day on his feet.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Her voice came out of the dark, he couldn't see her, had not heard her approach at all. Usually she waited downstairs for him to return from his last round. A glass of sherry ready for him, a warm embrace, words exchanged over the happenings of their day.

"A penny would not be sufficient." Which was true, especially after today.

"Then tell me what's bothering you. I thought Mr Jenkins had agreed to our plans?" She stepped out of the shadows and sat down on the red velvet sofa. For a split second he was shocked by her boldness.

"No one will be any the wiser. Join me?" She patted the seat next to her and a bit reluctantly but also very curious at the same time, he sat down, leaving a bit of space between them.

Elsie immediately closed the distance and rested head on his shoulder. "I am looking forward to evenings like this. Just the two of us."

All nervousness left his body. Should someone enter the library this very second, he would not care. "I thought about that just a moment ago." He drew her a bit closer to his side, his arm resting on her shoulder. "And the only thing that bothered me, was the headmaster's unpunctuality."

Elsie sniggered quietly, lifted her head and looked at him. "Are you sure?"

Her face was so close to his, their noses almost touched. It was a spur of the moment decision; his lips touched hers, his hand moved from her shoulder to cup her face. Kissing her was the most wonderful thing. He never imagined it to feel so good, so thrilling. After all, they sat on his Lordship's sofa in the library, in the darkness. How inappropriate. The thought made him grin but not break the kiss that even intensified. In 21 days he could kiss her in their own home, whenever he wanted to and wherever.

Her hand wandered up his back to his neck, caressed it, drew him even closer. He did not want this to end, started to play with the buttons on the back of her dress, opened the first one, the second one, the third. His hand could now reach inside and touch her shoulder, but nothing more. Her skin was warm and soft. She hummed, shifted a bit, almost sat on his lap, and he allowed his hand to open the fourth and fifth button.

"We should stop." It was Elsie who broke the kiss. She rested her forehead against his. "Or I cannot guarantee that we ever leave this room."

"There's always your sitting room or my pantry. No one will disturb us there now." He could not believe his own ears. Had he truly said these words out loud?

She chuckled. "I had hoped you would wait until we are legally wed."

He joined her laughter. "Kissing does not hurt, does it?"

"No, not in the least."

* * *

TBC


End file.
